Category: Critique

Your Show of Shows forever shines in the canon of television comedy. From 1950 to 1954 this ingenious, sharp variety show featured Sid Caesar and Imogene Coca, et al, in sketches, inspired and silly. When you have writers, top of their game (Woody Allen, Mel Brooks, Carl Reiner, Neil Simon, to name a few) preposterous works just fine.  For more than 40 years Saturday Night Live has been thriving. It’s easy when nothing else is airing. Gilbert Gottfried observed that: “…it’s not a matter of bad or good, but which restaurant has the best view.”  By comparison the 4 year run of Your Show of Shows was criminal.

Max Prince (Alex Eding) is the frantic, tempestous star of the TV show. Lucas (Owen Wildoner) is the narrator and new hire. He embraces apprenticeship with conviviality and grace. The writers include Milt, Val, Brian, Kenny, Carol and Helen, the only women on staff. Milt (Brian Hoffman) is the raffish class clown, always on, cracking wise no matter how insensitive. Val (Eddy Herring) is the long-suffering, pious head of the team, and a favorite target of Milt. Brian (Joe Barr) always has a pending deal with Hollywood. Ira (Kenneth Fulenwilder) arrives late, each day,with a new, potentially fatal ailment. Kenny’s (Christian Black)  not as bombastic as the others, but his dry wit delivers. Carol (Molly Bowers) is the only woman at this playground. It’s a lonely struggle, but she’s welcome and respected, and persists. Helen (Hanna Mancuso) is the front desk assistant, running interference and keeping track of the crazy-making demands.

Laughter on the 23^rd Floor begins in the 3rd year, when the suits upstairs are wavering on budget, timeslots and payroll. The writers possess a keen sense of chemistry and timing, when it comes to punchlines and a fine sense of the ridiculous. Each brings their particular gift to the script, when they’re not digressing. Seems these professionals love to aim potshots at each other. The atmosphere is boisterous and edgy. Playwright Neil Simon has no problem with material that’s disparaging, crass, tone-deaf and gobsmacking. One delight of Laughter on the 23^rd Floor is its resistance to loftiness and propriety. Intelligent without being pretentious. There’s genuine pathos, there’s rumination and reflection crucial to Simon’s structure and upshot.

Director Leigh Wyatt Moore met this frantic juggling act, this zoo on wheels, with panache and sophistication. As many of you know, comedies are far more difficult, more challenging than drama. The mood-swings, the double-takes, the spitshots, the grotesquely tasteless hilarity. It must be like staving off tigers with a slingshot. Yet Moore carries it off beautifully, without a hitch. The performers fit together with familiarity, inhabiting roles comfortably. They are dedicated, nimble, intuitive. We’re invited to their boisterous, deadpan conflagration, and you’ll be glad you came.

Allen Contemporary Theatre presents: Laughter On the 23^rd Floor, playing August 14-30^th, 2026. 1210 E Main Street, #300, Allen, TX, United States, 75002. (844) 822-8849 allencontemporarytheatre.net

Hank and Bertha have shared a home for years. A barbecue shack with bedrooms in back. Though they’re married, they have no children. The menu offers a generous meal for five dollars or less. As Tennessee Wet Rub opens, their lanterns are lit fot the blizzard, that’s taken the electricity. Bertha, well versed in scripture, is certain end days are imminent, though Hank reassures. Their place is isolated, so a knock at the door is alarming. Turns out to be a stranger, Arleta, a teenager carrying a doll. She’s soft spoken, frightened, not at all worldly. She explains Dunk, her fiance’ is right behind. Their car is stuck in a ditch. Dunk is African American.

Bertha and Hank are up in an uproar. They can’t believe a man with honorable intentions would be engaged to this young girl. Certainly not a black man. They’re convinced something’s off-kilter, something they’re not being told. Gradually, Dunk’s impeccable manners, his respectful tone, and Christian upbringing, eases Hank and Bertha’s suspicions. When Dunk and Hank debate wet versus dry rub, they settle it on the kitchen battlefield.

Tennessee Wet Rub, is a keen and masterful stroke. Playwright Kim E. Ruyle writes characters that are detailed, nuanced, and ultimately, goodhearted. You can tell Bertha and Hank are struggling with assumptions, and basically, no compass. This being said, Ruyle is never condescending, or didactic. There’s no moment of epiphany, no lectures. When Vern, the deputy, flies of the handle, Hank stands up for Dunk. He tries to reason but wisdom doesn’t prevail. Again, we see Ruyle’s dedication to virtuosity over homilies. (Though, personally, I would have preferred a different ending, I’m probably more naive than Arleta.) Manipulate, the audience won’t believe you.

As so often is the case, The Core Theatre takes on difficult content (Twelve Angry Jurors, Inferno, To Kill a Mockingbird) with confidence and authority. Director James Prince (who wears many hats) has used each actor to best effect. Joseph Figuerias plays the convivial, stalwart (if hotheaded) Vern. Ariana Hope’s Arleta elicits sympathy and protectiveness, frail but basically steady. Justice Williams as Dunk, is admirable, intelligent, never pompous. Never defensive or angry. Ivy Opdyke and Matt Gunther are Bertha and Hank, the affectionate, if sometimes contentious, married couple. They capture the somber undertone that informs Tennessee Wet Rub, with veracity and familiarity. Opdyke’s Bertha is pious but not unkind. She won’t let Hank push her around. Gunther’s Hank is grounded in the actual. He’s strong-willed, and also easy-going.

Tennessee Wet Rub is volatile, absorbing theatre.  Genuine and deeply moving.

The Core Theatre presents Tennessee Wet Rub, playing August 7th-30th, 206. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 115, Richardson, Texas 75080. (214) 930-5338. james@thecoretheatre.org

 

Hank and Bertha have shared a home for years. A barbecue shack with bedrooms in back. Though they’re married, they have no children. The menu offers a generous meal for five dollars or less. As Tennessee Wet Rub opens, their lanterns are lit fot the blizzard, that’s taken the electricity. Bertha, well versed in scripture, is certain end days are imminent, though Hank reassures. Their place is isolated, so a knock at the door is alarming. Turns out to be a stranger, Arleta, a teenager carrying a doll. She’s soft spoken, frightened, not at all worldly. She explains Dunk, her fiance’ is right behind. Their car is stuck in a ditch. Dunk is African American.

Bertha and Hank are up in an uproar. They can’t believe a man with honorable intentions would be engaged to this young girl. Certainly not a black man. They’re convinced something’s off-kilter, something they’re not being told. Gradually, Dunk’s impeccable manners, his respectful tone, and Christian upbringing, eases Hank and Bertha’s suspicions. When Dunk and Hank debate wet versus dry rub, they settle it on the kitchen battlefield.

Tennessee Wet Rub, is a keen and masterful stroke. Playwright Kim E. Ruyle writes characters that are detailed, nuanced, and ultimately, goodhearted. You can tell Bertha and Hank are struggling with assumptions, and basically, no compass. This being said, Ruyle is never condescending, or didactic. There’s no moment of epiphany, no lectures. When Vern, the deputy, flies of the handle, Hank stands up for Dunk. He tries to reason but wisdom doesn’t prevail. Again, we see Ruyle’s dedication to virtuosity over homilies. (Though, personally, I would have preferred a different ending, I’m probably more naive than Arleta.) Manipulate, the audience won’t believe you.

As so often is the case, The Core Theatre takes on difficult content (Twelve Angry Jurors, Inferno, To Kill a Mockingbird) with confidence and authority. Director James Prince (who wears many hats) has used each actor to best effect. Joseph Figuerias plays the convivial, stalwart (if hotheaded) Vern. Ariana Hope’s Arleta elicits sympathy and protectiveness, frail but basically steady. Justice Williams as Dunk, is admirable, intelligent, never pompous. Never defensive or angry. Ivy Opdyke and Matt Gunther are Bertha and Hank, the affectionate, if sometimes contentious, married couple. They capture the somber undertone that informs Tennessee Wet Rub, with veracity and familiarity. Opdyke’s Bertha is pious but not unkind. She won’t let Hank push her around. Gunther’s Hank is grounded in the actual. He’s strong-willed, and also easy-going.

Tennessee Wet Rub is volatile, absorbing theatre.  Genuine and deeply moving.

The Core Theatre presents Tennessee Wet Rub, playing August 7th-30th, 206. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 115, Richardson, Texas 75080. (214) 930-5338.  james@thecoretheatre.org

 

 

Hank and Bertha have shared a home for years. A barbecue shack with bedrooms in back. Though they’re married, they have no children. The menu offers a generous meal for five dollars or less. As Tennessee Wet Rub opens, their lanterns are lit fot the blizzard, that’s taken the electricity. Bertha, well versed in scripture, is certain end days are imminent, though Hank reassures. Their place is isolated, so a knock at the door is alarming. Turns out to be a stranger, Arleta, a teenager carrying a doll. She’s soft spoken, frightened, not at all worldly. She explains Dunk, her fiance’ is right behind. Their car is stuck in a ditch. Dunk is African American.

Bertha and Hank are up in an uproar. They can’t believe a man with honorable intentions would be engaged to this young girl. Certainly not a black man. They’re convinced something’s off-kilter, something they’re not being told. Gradually, Dunk’s impeccable manners, his respectful tone, and Christian upbringing, eases Hank and Bertha’s suspicions. When Dunk and Hank debate wet versus dry rub, they settle it on the kitchen battlefield.

Tennessee Wet Rub, is a keen and masterful stroke. Playwright Kim E. Ruyle writes characters that are detailed, nuanced, and ultimately, goodhearted. You can tell Bertha and Hank are struggling with assumptions, and basically, no compass. This being said, Ruyle is never condescending, or didactic. There’s no moment of epiphany, no lectures. When Vern, the deputy, flies of the handle, Hank stands up for Dunk. He tries to reason but wisdom doesn’t prevail. Again, we see Ruyle’s dedication to virtuosity over homilies. (Though, personally, I would have preferred a different ending, I’m probably more naive than Arleta.) Manipulate, the audience won’t believe you.

As so often is the case, The Core Theatre takes on difficult content (Twelve Angry Jurors, Inferno, To Kill a Mockingbird) with confidence and authority. Director James Prince (who wears many hats) has used each actor to best effect. Joseph Figuerias plays the convivial, stalwart (if hotheaded) Vern. Ariana Hope’s Arleta elicits sympathy and protectiveness, frail but basically steady. Justice Williams as Dunk, is admirable, intelligent, never pompous. Never defensive or angry. Ivy Opdyke and Matt Gunther are Bertha and Hank, the affectionate, if sometimes contentious, married couple. They capture the somber undertone that informs Tennessee Wet Rub, with veracity and familiarity. Opdyke’s Bertha is pious but not unkind. She won’t let Hank push her around. Gunther’s Hank is grounded in the actual. He’s strong-willed, and also easy-going.

Tennessee Wet Rub is volatile, absorbing theatre.  Genuine and deeply moving.

The Core Theatre presents Tennessee Wet Rub, playing August 7th-30th, 206. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 115, Richardson, Texas 75080. (214) 930-5338. james@thecoretheatre.org

 

Hank and Bertha have shared a home for years. A barbecue shack with bedrooms in back. Though they’re married, they have no children. The menu offers a generous meal for five dollars or less. As Tennessee Wet Rub opens, their lanterns are lit fot the blizzard, that’s taken the electricity. Bertha, well versed in scripture, is certain end days are imminent, though Hank reassures. Their place is isolated, so a knock at the door is alarming. Turns out to be a stranger, Arleta, a teenager carrying a doll. She’s soft spoken, frightened, not at all worldly. She explains Dunk, her fiance’ is right behind. Their car is stuck in a ditch. Dunk is African American.

Bertha and Hank are up in an uproar. They can’t believe a man with honorable intentions would be engaged to this young girl. Certainly not a black man. They’re convinced something’s off-kilter, something they’re not being told. Gradually, Dunk’s impeccable manners, his respectful tone, and Christian upbringing, eases Hank and Bertha’s suspicions. When Dunk and Hank debate wet versus dry rub, they settle it on the kitchen battlefield.

Tennessee Wet Rub, is a keen and masterful stroke. Playwright Kim E. Ruyle writes characters that are detailed, nuanced, and ultimately, goodhearted. You can tell Bertha and Hank are struggling with assumptions, and basically, no compass. This being said, Ruyle is never condescending, or didactic. There’s no moment of epiphany, no lectures. When Vern, the deputy, flies of the handle, Hank stands up for Dunk. He tries to reason but wisdom doesn’t prevail. Again, we see Ruyle’s dedication to virtuosity over homilies. (Though, personally, I would have preferred a different ending, I’m probably more naive than Arleta.) Manipulate, the audience won’t believe you.

As so often is the case, The Core Theatre takes on difficult content (Twelve Angry Jurors, Inferno, To Kill a Mockingbird) with confidence and authority. Director James Prince (who wears many hats) has used each actor to best effect. Joseph Figuerias plays the convivial, stalwart (if hotheaded) Vern. Ariana Hope’s Arleta elicits sympathy and protectiveness, frail but basically steady. Justice Williams as Dunk, is admirable, intelligent, never pompous. Never defensive or angry. Ivy Opdyke and Matt Gunther are Bertha and Hank, the affectionate, if sometimes contentious, married couple. They capture the somber undertone that informs Tennessee Wet Rub, with veracity and familiarity. Opdyke’s Bertha is pious but not unkind. She won’t let Hank push her around. Gunther’s Hank is grounded in the actual. He’s strong-willed, and also easy-going.

Tennessee Wet Rub is volatile, absorbing theatre.  Genuine and deeply moving.

The Core Theatre presents Tennessee Wet Rub, playing August 7th-30th, 206. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 115, Richardson, Texas 75080. (214) 930-5338. james@thecoretheatre.org

 

 

John Adams has a mess on his hands. The chaos of the Continental Congress is working his last nerve. His style loud and intimidating. The rest of the congressmen, however, are used to it. Some have settled in, others still maintaining formality. Adams must convince them to compose a declaration of independence, unheard of and stupefying. The tyranny of Great Britain is unmistakable and unconscionable. Yet some members still want to make nice, and play along. Adams enlists two confederates, Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson (with some persuasion).

Such is the premise of Sherman Edwards and Peter Stone’s musical: 1776. It seems to me period pieces are often a hard sell. Edwards and Stone show us the nuts and bolts of seachange, both madcap and remarkable, forging of a document that will resonate for more than 200 years. It may not be as juicy as say, Jefferson and Sally Hemings, but they pull it off. They humanize well known historical figures: Martha Jefferson, Abigail Adams, John Hancock, Reverend John Witherspoon, Samuel Chase, Richard Henry Lee, et al. They’re not above silly songs and playful jigs, but perfectly capable when it comes to romance and high drama.

Director Eric Levy has orchestrated this ridiculously large cast (25!?) with precision and poise. There’s quite a bit of crossfire dialogue. Complicated blocking, mood shifts, despondent moments. Levy dives right into the midst of this engaging narrative, and takes the rest of us with him. Even that lady with the huge, green hat. We’re caught up in the intensity, atmosphere, and disappointment that came with Continental Congress, finding common ground on a world-changing, gargantuan decision. Kudos to Mr. Levy for the ingenuity, strategy and sharp navigation he managed with finesse.

Allen Contemporary Theatre presented a delightful spectacle of our forefathers, hammering out the details of our Declaration of Independence. Memorable tunes from chipper to somber. Impeccable timing. Testosterone fueled brawling. The actors are top of their game, perfect harmony and disharmony, authentic and avid commitment to character. Sparkling and convivial. Truly a submersive, remarkable production.

Many thanks to Allen Contemporary Theatre, that found room for me on closing weekend.

Allen Contemporary Theatre. 1210 E Main Street, #300, Allen, TX, United States, 75002. allencontemporarytheatre.net (844) 822-8849

Dr. Jamie Allen has a new patient. Ruby Tuesday was named by her ultra-cool hippie parents. Like her brother, she was adopted. She’s reluctantly agreed to see a psychologist because of an incident at work. Seems she climbed out on the ledge, to rescue a cat. Why would she do something so dangerous? That’s for Ruby to know, and Jamie to find out. Even though she insists on her reasoning, Dr. Jamie isn’t convinced. As he recovers bits and pieces, her story’s less and less plausible. And wouldn’t you know, Dr. Jamie goes gaga for Ruby. She may be loopy, but there’s something enchanting, other-worldly about her.

Dr. Ron Hook is Jamie’s mentor, counselor, and “dad”. Therapists seeking therapy from another therapist is not an uncommon. When Jamie confides he and Ruby have crossed an ethical boundary, Ron is understandably appalled. So is Ruby’s best friend, Julie.  Both try to intervene, they’re not wrong. But Ruby and Jamie are smitten. In the midst of all this, Ruby has discovered she has an astonishing power. A secular miracle (if you will). It’s truly fantastic, but strains possibility.

Director James Prince has it nailed. The tone, the blocking, the timing. Unpredictable punchlines land quite nicely. Blackouts fall neither early nor late. Performances are amusing, compelling, and balanced. For his part, playwright Mike Byham, has written sophisticated, well-developed characters, without resorting to tropes. His dialogue feels natural rather than fabricated. The plot organic and effective. David Huner (Dr. Jamie Allen) shifts from pragmatic to starry-eyed rather deftly. Jennifer Nachazel (Ruby Tuesday) mixes eccentricity with eclat. She’s playful yet grounded. Julie Richardson (Bri McKay) looks out for her closest friend, protective but firm. Tony Magee (Dr. Ron Hook) is relaxed, thoughtful, intelligent. His own, unique interpretation. He doesn’t emulate Freud, Jung or Frasier.

Playwright Mike Byham has conceived a crackerjack comedy that explores important (perhaps crucial) questions about our shared and dubious humanity. The nature of the metaphysical and how we partake. Some of the best plays leave key questions unanswered. Agnes of God, The Rainmaker, The Man from Atlanta. If we yearn for the answer, we must decided for ourselves. Ruby Tuesday blurs the line between the fanciful and plausible. For those of you unfamiliar, there’s a legendary column wherein a little girl named Virginia writes to the Editor of The Sun. Her father tell her: If it’s in the Sun, it’s so. Virginia asks: Is there really a Santa Claus? The editor answers with detailed explanation. He exists if we believe he does. If we all agree, essentially, it’s true. We act on it. We celebrate it. Perhaps that’s all it takes. Ruby Tuesday is consummately entertaining. Tickling, intriguing, authentic.

The Core Theatre presents Mike Byham’s Ruby Tuesday, playing June 26^th -July 19^th, 2026. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 115, Richardson, Texas, 75080. thecoretheatre.org (214) 930-5338. james@corethetre.org

 

Dr. Jamie Allen has a new patient. Ruby Tuesday was named by her ultra-cool hippie parents. Like her brother, she was adopted. She’s reluctantly agreed to see a psychologist because of an incident at work. Seems she climbed out on the ledge, to rescue a cat. Why would she do something so dangerous? That’s for Ruby to know, and Jamie to find out. Even though she insists on her reasoning, Dr. Jamie isn’t convinced. As he recovers bits and pieces, her story’s less and less plausible. And wouldn’t you know, Dr. Jamie goes gaga for Ruby. She may be loopy, but there’s something enchanting, other-worldly about her.

Dr. Ron Hook is Jamie’s mentor, counselor, and “dad”. Therapists seeking therapy from another therapist is not an uncommon. When Jamie confides he and Ruby have crossed an ethical boundary, Ron is understandably appalled. So is Ruby’s best friend, Bri. Both try to intervene, they’re not wrong. But Ruby and Jamie are smitten. In the midst of all this, Ruby has discovered she has an astonishing power. A secular miracle (if you will). It’s truly fantastic, but strains possibility.

Director James Prince has it nailed. The tone, the blocking, the timing. Unpredictable punchlines land quite nicely. Blackouts fall neither early nor late. Performances are amusing, compelling, and balanced. For his part, playwright Mike Byham, has written sophisticated, well-developed characters, without resorting to tropes. His dialogue feels natural rather than fabricated. The plot organic and effective. David Huner (Dr. Jamie Allen) shifts from pragmatic to starry-eyed rather deftly. Jennifer Nachazel (Ruby Tuesday) mixes eccentricity with eclat. She’s playful yet grounded. Julie Richardson (Bri McKay) looks out for her closest friend, protective but firm. Tony Magee (Dr. Ron Hook) is relaxed, thoughtful, intelligent. His own, unique interpretation. He doesn’t emulate Freud, Jung or Frasier.

Playwright Mike Byham has conceived a crackerjack comedy that explores important (perhaps crucial) questions about our shared and dubious humanity. The nature of the metaphysical and how we partake. Some of the best plays leave key questions unanswered. Agnes of God, The Rainmaker, The Man from Atlanta. If we yearn for the answer, we must decided for ourselves. Ruby Tuesday blurs the line between the fanciful and plausible. For those of you unfamiliar, there’s a legendary column wherein a little girl named Virginia writes to the Editor of The Sun. Her father tell her: If it’s in the Sun, it’s so. Virginia asks: Is there really a Santa Claus? The editor answers with detailed explanation. He exists if we believe he does. If we all agree, essentially, it’s true. We act on it. We celebrate it. Perhaps that’s all it takes. Ruby Tuesday is consummately entertaining. Tickling, intriguing, authentic.

The Core Theatre presents Mike Byham’s Ruby Tuesday, playing June 26^th -July 19^th, 2026. 518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 115, Richardson, Texas, 75080. thecoretheatre.org (214) 930-5338. james@corethetre.org

 

Dr. Jamie Allen has a new patient. Ruby Tuesday was named by her ultra-cool hippie parents. Like her brother, she was adopted. She’s reluctantly agreed to see a psychologist because of an incident at work. Seems she climbed out on the ledge, to rescue a cat. Why would she do something so dangerous? That’s for Ruby to know, and Jamie to find out. Even though she insists on her reasoning, Dr. Jamie isn’t convinced. As he recovers bits and pieces, her story’s less and less plausible. And wouldn’t you know, Dr. Jamie goes gaga for Ruby. She may be loopy, but there’s something enchanting, other-worldly about her.

Dr. Ron Hook is Jamie’s mentor, counselor, and “dad”. Therapists seeking therapy from another therapist is not an uncommon. When Jamie confides he and Ruby have crossed an ethical boundary, Ron is understandably appalled. So is Ruby’s best friend, Bri. Both try to intervene, they’re not wrong. But Ruby and Jamie are smitten. In the midst of all this, Ruby has discovered she has an astonishing power. A secular miracle (if you will). It’s truly fantastic, but strains possibility.

Director James Prince has it nailed. The tone, the blocking, the timing. Unpredictable punchlines land quite nicely. Blackouts fall neither early nor late. Performances are amusing, compelling, and balanced. For his part, playwright Mike Byham, has written sophisticated, well-developed characters, without resorting to tropes. His dialogue feels natural rather than fabricated. The plot organic and effective. David Huner (Dr. Jamie Allen) shifts from pragmatic to starry-eyed rather deftly. Jennifer Nachazel (Ruby Tuesday) mixes eccentricity with eclat. She’s playful yet grounded. Julie Richardson (Bri McKay) looks out for her closest friend, protective but firm. Tony Magee (Dr. Ron Hook) is relaxed, thoughtful, intelligent. His own, unique interpretation. He doesn’t emulate Freud, Jung or Frasier.

Playwright Mike Byham has conceived a crackerjack comedy that explores important (perhaps crucial) questions about our shared and dubious humanity. The nature of the metaphysical and how we partake. Some of the best plays leave key questions unanswered. Agnes of God, The Rainmaker, The Man from Atlanta. If we yearn for the answer, we must decided for ourselves. Ruby Tuesday blurs the line between the fanciful and plausible. For those of you unfamiliar, there’s a legendary column wherein a little girl named Virginia writes to the Editor of The Sun. Her father tell her: If it’s in the Sun, it’s so. Virginia asks: Is there really a Santa Claus? The editor answers with detailed explanation. He exists if we believe he does. If we all agree, essentially, it’s true. We act on it. We celebrate it. Perhaps that’s all it takes. Ruby Tuesday is consummately entertaining. Tickling, intriguing, authentic.

The Core Theatre presents Mike Byham’s Ruby Tuesday, playing June 26^th -July 19^th, 2026.518 West Arapaho Road, Suite 115, Richardson, Texas, 75080. thecoretheatre.org (214) 930-5338. james@corethetre.org

 

 

Myron Siegel nervously waits for the straight dope on Carl Dennam’s latest attraction, kept closely under wraps. Seems both their shows overlap, and Myron is afraid of poaching. Family members are on hand, and Myron’s henchman, Little Willie. Myron’s borrowed money (5 figures) from his mother-in-law Sally, and she reminds him constantly. Daisy his niece, is visiting from a very chaste and devout Midwest Catholic community.

Kong’s Night Out uses familiar tropes of stage comedy. Injects them with a shot of verve, ingenuity, and chipper dialogue. It develops the characters and their back stories. They’re familiar, without caricature or stereotype. We don’t see the punchlines headed down Fifth Avenue, and they don’t come with a rimshot. Scenes don’t resolve in the way we expect. Neither does King Kong. It develops the characters and their back stories. They’re familiar, without caricature or stereotype.

There’s Ann Farrow: dishy, intelligent, platinum blonde, kidnapped and rescued and kidnapped again. Sally the raspy, cantankerous mother-in-law, who hides her compassion, really well. Myron the sweet producer who can’t catch a break. Carl the gleeful, equal opportunity schmuck. Daisy the ingenue who may be slow to catch up, but she’s not dense. Her comedy technique is positively acrobatic. Bertrille is the coniving, unfaithful wife. Her butter’s spread on both sides. Sig Higginbottom, the frisky Hungarian financier with the embarassing toupee. Jack Driskel is Ann’s devoted fiance. His generous spirit ignores danger and jeopardy. Little Willie is Myron’s go-to muscle. Pragmatic and personable. By and large the women come off better than the men. (Maybe that’s not so rare in comedy) They’re savvy, convivial, and resourceful.

The best theatre is like the Hubble. The closer you look the more you see. The title set’s the tone. Kong’s Night Out. Dapper yet absurd. Is Kong Equity? Is he invited to the after-party? Does he conceal an air of sophistication? We might be inclined to compare Carl Dennam with Kong, he sports a sharp suit, but who’s the bigger beast? At least Kong has tenderness for Ann Farrow. Carl is contemptuous of everybody. He swats dragonflies. He steals your lunch bag. He doesn’t silence his cellphone. He’s an arrogant misanthrope. He comes after Myron because he’s at the disadvantage. Because he can.

Rachael Lindley has landed this this 50 lb. fish without a care. Has a director ever gotten so much use from a sofa? Or a balcony? Or a powder room? Darlin, how do you do it? Brian Hoffman (Myron) Sue Goodner (Sally) Kendra Young (Daisy) Nathan Beeman (Little Willy) Emily Fry (Bertrille Siegel) Lloyd Webb (Higginbottom) Elise Stuart (Ann Farrow) Christopher Dean (Carl Dennam) Adam Koch (Jack Driskel) tuck into that dizzy energy like monkeys on a sugar bender. Kristin Moore’s costumes from debonair suits to the glamorous gowns bring the posh to the play. Greg Smith’s set design would put the Grand Budapest Hotel to shame.

So what are you waiting for, already?

Richardson Theatre Centre presents Jack Neary’s Kong’s Night Out from June 5th-28th, 2026. 518 W Arapaho Rd, Ste 113, Richardson, TX, 75080. (972) 699 1130

richardsontheatre@gmail.com facebook.com/RichardsonTheatreCenter